Angry Love
by MikiFreaky
Summary: Sequel to "Meant to Be." This time the story focuses on Bulma and Vegeta, and all the lovely complications that make up the most notorious and dangerously unstable couple (my friend's opinion, not mine!) in the Dragon Ball Universe. Like the last story, this is set after Majin Buu's defeat.


Author's Note: Hi y'all, I'm still alive. Okay, so this is the second story that I promised my friend and is a kind of sequel to "Meant to Be." This time the focus is on Bulma and Vegeta. As such, the language is a little more mature, as is the content. However, there is no Lemon. Well, there is, but I took it out. That's just the special stuff for my friend, sorry. Besides, the sex between these two was... a lot more adult than I usually write (and I know you are thinking 'how is this possible, Miki, you write gay smut!?') but trust me. It's intense. Strength and dominance and a little bit of pain come into play. So I just censored it out. Sorry! One more thing. I have had a TON of requests for a little story about Gohan and Goku having a heart to heart talk. I'll try. I can't tell you when it will go up, but I'll try. So anyway, please read and enjoy! Oh, and please forgive any small errors and out of character moments. I had a heck of a time trying to get the character's right and I finally got so angry I just kinda decided to post it as is. Ok. NOW enjoy! Thanks a bunch!

Angry Love

Looking at all the dearly loved faces gathered around chatting and laughing, I let out a shuddering breath and try to relax. Even though the atmosphere is joyous, I am finding it hard to be spirited. In the past few days I have gone through an emotional roller coaster running the gambit from elated happiness and worry to betrayal and agonizing loss. And anger. A lot of anger, directed at many different people, including myself.

But most of the anger right now is directed at the man sitting so silently at my side, methodically eating without joining into the conversations flowing around us. He's the elephant in the room, and I know I have to address it, but not just yet. I'm not ready for the pain and anxiety having a conversation with him will inexorably cause. Right now, I'm going to just try and enjoy having everyone I care about together again and not let my temper take over to ruin this happy moment.

Scooting over, I lean against his muscular body, just lightly resting against him. For once, he doesn't violently pull away or shout at me. He just shifts his plates out of the way of my legs and keeps eating. It's the most acceptance I've gotten out of him since… who knows how long. Many years, at the very least. Coming after how brutally he rejected all that I want for us together, it's hard to take.

Swallowing hard, I glance away to my left, seeing my dear friend reaching out to touch her husband with a shaking hand. A smile breaks across her face as the man squeezes her hand back. Sometimes I am jealous of her, though I will never say it aloud. Who would believe me even if I did? They all think she should be jealous of _me_ , but they just don't understand what I truly want in my life.

Even though she has had to deal with being targeted and losing him to enemies far beyond her ilk times beyond count, she has _never_ had to suffer with doubt about whether what she has is a pure hearted and joyous love or not. Her husband freely admits to loving her in front of anyone, and she has two kids born of that devotion. She has what I want most. They embrace often, all her children readily giving hugs and touching freely with love when it is needed. Even her husband does so, putting his arm around her when they stand close and lifting his child up onto his shoulders to show his loving for them to the entire world. I have a beautiful child and I won't say I regret his birth, because I don't, but he came about because of an angry love I share with his father, a passion born of loneliness and selfish desires. Not one born of a committed love and companionship.

Shaking my head a little, I lean closer to the slender woman sitting next to me. "Amazing, isn't it?" I ask, making her jump and turn to face me with a startled expression on her homely face.

She's always had a visage that evokes images of house and hearth, a persona that screams safety and love when not twisting in righteous anger. I envy her that as well. No one claims to be relaxed or rejuvenated in my presence. Most times they are frightened and aggravated by me. I'm selfish and loud and overbearing, not qualities my friends find endearing most days. Not to mention I'm usually getting into some sort of trouble. The only time our circle of friends avoid her is when she is steaming mad about something her husband has done, and she is usually in the right for feeling the way she does. We laugh about her being the strongest but that is just because we all know when it is best to avoid evoking the ire of the mother of the strongest children on Earth.

My family tends to avoid me just because I get into a devilish mood when they interrupt my work. Hell, I can't even cook well enough to feed them most days, though I'm getting better at simple dishes like cereal. I wish I could cook for an army like my best friend does daily, and keep a home instead of having to build robots and hire maids to do it all for me. It's a little embarrassing. But, then again, I like having my time devoted to my work, so I wouldn't be a homebody even if I could. I'm just not wired that way, not like she is. My brain is geared towards invention and technology, not laundry and housework.

"I... still can't believe it's real. Not only is my son back but so is my husband." She says, reaching out to squeeze his hand one more time. Seeing the shy blush that breaks out across her face as her husband holds her hand tightly makes me smile. They both deserve all the happiness in the world, especially with the pain both of them have had to endure these past seven years.

"I know, right!? I keep thinking I'll blink and open my eyes and we will be dead spirits again in Otherworld and Vegeta will still be… gone." I choke a little on my words, the thought of waking from this wonderful moment enough to cause panic to rise and squeeze my throat shut. I glance away from my friend's caring gaze and draw in a steady breath, trying to control myself. She hasn't had it easy either. Her son was presumed dead, and that is a pain I cannot imagine having to experience.

I can still see her form crumpling after her husband told us the news, all strength vanishing from a woman I know is a match for many of the warriors gathered around us when she puts her mind to it. Even so, I hadn't been able to offer her comfort then because my own grief had overtaken me. I have always thought I am strong enough to hold myself together through anything, but… my throat is still raw with the scream that proved just how wrong I was.

"Bulma…" She reaches out and grabs my hand, obviously gearing up for a good crying jag and comforting session. But I'm tired of being sad, tired of crying and screaming. And I'm just not built that way. My main trait is self-indulgent optimism so I'll focus on that. I have many more things I would rather be doing right now, so the sorrow is just going to have to wait for a more convenient – and solitary – time. Shoving those complicated feelings to the backburner, I smirk at her and lean in closer, ready to tease her a little bit. Call me immature, but it makes me feel better.

"So, Chi-Chi, I bet you are excited to get back home tonight. Hubby has seven years worth to make up for. I'd offer to watch Goten for you but I'm planning on getting pretty busy myself later. Do you think Gohan would mind taking both Goten and Trunks for the night?" As I speak her face turns red until she shrieks and shoves me away from herself violently. I fall back against my man – who doesn't even stop eating at impact, the jerk – and laugh, enjoying her innocent discomfort.

If her children didn't take after their father so obviously I would seriously wonder if she and Goku even know what sex is. But, they obviously do, and have engaged in recreational procreation more than a few times. Eyeing her husband as he pulls her around to his side, I can't say I blame her. I've always thought him to be very attractive. I even had a little crush on him at one point, but that quickly fizzled out. I love Goku, but just as a friend or a brother. He's just a little too dense to be a blip on my romance radar. I require more intelligence and a little bit of bad boy charisma in my men. I mean, come on, my first boyfriend used to be a desert bandit. Goku doesn't fit the bill at all. He's too goody goody for me.

So I have just remained one of Goku's best friends during all our years together, never once trying to make a move on him. And now, watching as he plays around with his wife, I know it is for the best. He's meant to be with Chi-Chi. Those two are only really complete when they're together. I know that Goku keeps fighting even when his body is torn to bits because he has Chi-Chi waiting for him. And each time he has died or been taken away, his last words have always been for his wife. That's true love, pure and simple. Even now, as I watch them jealously, he admits to needing some tactile contact and makes my little romantic heart go pit pat.

Gohan says what I am thinking, that the two lovebirds need some alone time. Predictably, however, Chi-Chi's temper flares up and she starts screaming at her husband and children, stomping away in a rage. It's always fun to see her go off, because it makes every single one of the top notch warriors here flinch in fear. I love that she can scare even Piccolo. I can usually only scare a few of them at a time, and that's generally only when I'm waving some new technology in their faces. Goku jumps up and chases after Chi-Chi, picking her up like some romance novel hero and flying away into the clouds with her, their children following behind. A heavy silence falls over the gathering as we all watch them fade into the distance. With their departure, it feels like some of the life has left us. And in truth, it has. Goku has always been the heart of our group, the one who draws us all in and holds us together.

"I can't get used to the idea that Goku is alive again." Krillin says softly as he holds his adorable daughter in his lap, bouncing her while 18 watches them both with an almost happy look on her face. "I mean, I'm pleased and all, but he's been gone for so long I've forgotten how to live the extraordinary life he brings with him, you know what I mean?"

Next to him, Yamcha nods his head. "Yeah, I do. He's just so… incredible. It feels like we are in for some more interesting times again, now that he's back." He says, leaning back on his hands to watch Puar fly around his head.

I get what they are saying. Since I met Goku all those decades ago, my life has been far from simple. Look at all the adventures I had with him when we were still kids, and what has happened since then, even. I've been turned into food, flashed old geezers, gone to alien planets, and even sexed up an alien prince, not things one usually finds on their list of accomplishments.

Sighing, I stretch my arms over my head and stand. "Well, I guess we will just have to get used to it again. I for one am glad to have him back." I say, trying to work the blood back into my legs. I sat too long. It sure sucks getting older… especially when your lover doesn't seem to age with you, either. I slide my eyes over to the short but ripped man sitting next to me in totally-not-fair-overly-attractive-form-hugging blue spandex material stuff, still shoving his face. I swear, aside from growing maybe an inch or two, he hasn't changed at all since I first met him on Namek.

His jet black hair is just as gravity defying as ever, his brow line still as ridiculous as it was back then. The scowl on his face hasn't softened an iota, nor has his fixation on training. And don't even get me started on his attitude. I will be the first to admit that he has mellowed out a considerable amount since Namek, but his pride is still a huge problem. The most recent example of this being just a few days ago when he became Majin for awhile because he felt like he was becoming too soft to be a proud Saiyan warrior any more. Feeling my anger bubbling up again, I shake my head and walk around him to my son, who has yet to let go of his dad since his return.

"Trunks, let's go. It's time to head home. We need to tell my parents what happened." I tell the little lavender haired joy of my life. He glances up at me from under eyebrows with an expression that screams exactly who his father is – and really, do Sayain's just NATRUALLY look exactly like their fathers, or is that just a coincidence – and tightens his hold on Vegeta's hand.

It breaks my heart a little to see how desperately he clings to the warrior. Trunks has always, _always_ adored his father and wants to be just like him. Before this whole cluster-fuck mess with Buu, the most time he could spend with his dad was training in the Gravity Room every day for a few hours. After awhile Vegeta would kick the boy out to so he could focus on his own self-inflicted torture training regime. Even then, though, Trunks still idolized him. Having to witness his father turning into a manic killer (again) and then losing him was hard for the boy. The sheer joy on Trunks' face when he saw his dad again, and how tightly he clings to him now, are proof that these last few days have left their mark. Trunks needs to be able to clutch his father's hand to feel assured that the man isn't going to vanish again.

What shocks me the most is that Vegeta hasn't shaken him off yet. In fact, when Trunks first grabbed him, I swear I saw my taciturn lover squeeze our little boy's hand tight. And even though he usually eats with both hands, he's only using one, letting his son keep hold of the other one. It's tiny things like this that make me think that maybe perhaps somewhere in that tormented and complex heart of his he may actually care about us a little.

My anger at him only rises for continuing to string both me and Trunks along like this, only to be let down time and again. Thinking about it makes me mad and when I get mad it is hard for me to control my temper. I usually have no problem letting loose my rage in public, but this is a discussion that needs to take place in privacy, between me and Vegeta alone. Trunks doesn't need to see us arguing again. He's already had to witness that far too much in his short life.

"Right now, Mom?" Trunks asks me, blue eyes darting over to his father with a look of frightened longing on his face. It hits me then. I didn't say that Vegeta was coming along. My child is smart, I mean, how can he not be with two geniuses as his parents, and he caught onto that so easily. I wasn't even aware of omitting his father. Must be habit, since the man is usually never around us often enough to be included. Sighing, I squat down beside him, meeting his gaze levelly. I hope that Trunks inherits my height, not his fathers.

"Yup, right now. Vegeta, you're coming as well, right?" I ask, prying Trunks from his father and holding his small hand tight as dark, tormented eyes finally rise from the food to look at me.

The impact of his gaze is always powerful, but this time it steals my breath. He looks… worn out. Not just physically drained, but emotionally ragged and at the end of his rope. What has happened to make him look this way? Normally, nothing shakes him, even when he knows he is in the wrong. Whatever has made him look like this can't be good and it makes me scared. Is he going to leave us, for good? Heart in my throat, I clutch Trunks' hand a little tighter and wait. My son, glancing up at me, squeezes my hand back, not knowing why I am upset, but able to sense it and offering comfort in the only way he really knows how.

"Hn." With that non-verbal reply, Vegeta set his food aside and stands up at my side. I let out a breath I wasn't aware I had been holding and face the others.

"Alright, we're heading out then. I'm gonna have a celebration at my house in a few weeks once everything settles down, so I'll see you all then. I'll send out the information later." I call out, waving to my friends. Master Roshi and Krillin both give me hearty waves. Mr. PoPo and Dende bow, Piccolo just nods, and Mr. Satan and Videl smile at me. Yamcha, however, frowns and walks over, giving Vegeta the side-eye before focusing on me.

"Are you sure you're alright, Bulma? If you want, I can come with you." He offers. I know that Yamcha is doing this because he is a genuinely kind person and he cares about me more than he probably should, but I wish he would get it through his head that we are just friends now. I can feel the irritation building in the man at my side, and I don't have the patience or time to deal with his moodiness right now. I nail Yamcha with a pointed look.

"We're fine. You and Puar need some time to yourselves. Relax, alright, I'll be fine." I tell him, digging a dino-cap out and tossing it to the ground. With a bang, a small airplane appears and Trunks breaks free of my hold to climb inside. I rest my hand on Yamcha's shoulder as Vegeta climbs in as well. I can see the former bandit glowering at the Saiyan and I know what happened with the man is bothering my ex.

He still holds a torch for me, and who can blame him? I'm hot, I'm wealthy and I'm accomplished. However, this has to stop. I'm not his woman at all. I don't think I ever really was. He is not dominant enough to have ever been able to hold my heart. I'm a strong woman and I need a man who is stronger than me, not physically – although that never hurts either because yum – but mentally and emotionally. My man needs to be able to clash with my overpowering personality and hold his own. Yamcha couldn't; he caved too easily to my whims, and his own desires. I will always hold a special place in my heart for him because we were each other's firsts, but that is all. I catch Yamcha's gaze and tighten my hold on his shoulder, forcing him to look at me.

"Don't worry; I'll talk to him, alright? But, Yamcha, really, we're both adults with separate lives. We're friends and always will be, but that is it. So please, understand." I whisper, letting my hand slide free. He stares after me with painful longing but I ignore it. Climbing into the cockpit, I start the machine up. With one last wave, I turn the plane and zoom towards West City. I keep to a relatively comfortable altitude, enjoying the view of Earth being alive and occupied below me. I see large groups of people everywhere, celebrating Majin Buu's defeat.

It makes me smile, but it also hurts my heart. I know that Goku and Chi-Chi will be laughing and having fun with their kids tonight. They all need the family time, though if I know Goku, he will manage to get some personal time with Chi-Chi in somehow. He is a man with strong appetites, after all. Lucky girl.

Despite what I told Chi-Chi earlier, nothing fun is on my agenda for the next few hours. I want to be celebrating as much as anyone, especially with my lover, but before that can happen, I need to work through this anger in my heart. Unfortunately, the only person who can help me do so is the silent menace leaning up against the chair behind me.

After a few minutes, we approach Capsule Corp. I set the airplane down in the large yard and climb out after my boy, returning the machine to dino-cap form. Vegeta, without looking at me, turns to walk inside. Before he can go anywhere, though, I trot in front of him, blocking his way.

"What are you doing, woman?" He asks gruffly, that voice of his always able to make me shiver for all the right reasons. Focus, hormones, yeesh. Instead of answering him, I look over at Trunks.

"Would you go on in and tell my Mom and Dad what happened? After that, go on and eat. Vegeta and I will be right in." I phrase my words nicely, but it isn't a question; it's an order. And Trunks knows that saying no is not an option. Still, he waits a long moment before nodding and skipping inside ahead of us, shouting for his grandfather. The boy senses that something more is going on here, but luckily for me, despite his high intelligence, Trunks is still just a kid and doesn't know what he is picking up on. Now then, time to begin the difficult part.

Turning, I stare Vegeta, gnawing on my bottom lip. Now that we are alone, I have no idea where to start. There are many things we need to talk about, but having heart to heart conversations with this man is nigh on impossible most days. After the battles he's gone through, I'm lucky he isn't blasting me out of his way to get inside and rest. But still, there are things that need to be said and I am going to say them. First, though, I thought this man dead not too long ago, and I am going to claim my right as his lover to make sure that he is really here with me now. As such…

I launch myself at him and wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him as hard as I can and just breathing him in. He's stiff in my embrace, but after a long and admittedly awkward moment, he reaches up and touches my back with a gentle brush of fingers. My tears leak out and I hide my face against his muscular shoulder, trembling. He's alive, and he's warm and here at my side and I just can't let him go.

No matter how much I want to scream and punch his face in, I want to hold him more. I held back at the Lookout because I know him and he would never accept an embrace in front of others, especially not Goku. He always has to be the stoic and proud warrior, untouched by emotional commitments. Even having Trunks hold his hand is a huge step for him, but now that we are alone, I can finally hold him.

"Woman, this is unsightly." He growls at me, tugging on the back of my dress. Shaking my head, I cling to his body all the tighter. "Woman." It is amazing how much he can say with just one word. He has tonal delivery down to an art form. Hearing his aggravation and embarrassment sends shivers through my body, but I shake my head and keep clinging to him.

"Shut up, Vegeta! You… you were dead, alright? I need you to be quiet and let me hug you for once!" I snap at him, hating how my voice quavers. He despises weakness and flighty emotions, both qualities I have in spades. Usually I try not to annoy him but right now, my needs are more important than his useless warrior's pride.

"Yes, I know, since I'm the one who actually died." He snaps back, coaxing a watery giggle out of me. Vegeta can never let me have the last word about anything. It's an annoying habit but I love him for it all the same. My hands seize at him, pulling at the blue fabric covering his delicious body. I need it off, to be able to touch his warm scarred skin and really confirm he's here, but I have never really mastered the art of peeling him out of his clothes. Scissors don't work and it's so tight to his body that it takes some real talent to roll it off. Talent I do not currently have in my emotionally compromised state.

Instead of letting go to ask him to strip I burrow tighter against him. Even as my back twinges, reminding me none too gently that my age does not like standing stooped like this, I refuse to straighten and let go of him. My aching back can deal with the slight bend. Vegeta is only a few inches shorter than me and I've sat more curved than this when working on delicate technology for hours on end before.

Heaving a sigh, Vegeta suddenly secures his arm around my waist. Without warning he hoists me over his shoulder in a completely unromantic fireman's carry and rises off the ground. I shriek and kick my legs, terrified, but he ignores my screaming and flies up to the window of my bedroom. Opening it, he flies in and drops me on the mattress, propping himself against the far wall, arms crossed.

He doesn't say anything, but at least he isn't stomping off. I guess Vegeta has learned to read my moods almost as well as I can read his. Though if I have to hazard a guess, I'll say he's learned me more by accident than any real effort. He's scarily perceptive, after all, and just picks up on stuff naturally, the prick. I'm the one who has spent years watching him, gauging his reactions to everything so I can pretty much accurately tell how he will respond to any given situation. I have a Vegeta Observation Logbook, even. It must be the scientist in me.

 _Sigh_. I can't put this off any long. Reaching up, I tug my yellow scarf off and walk to the vanity, laying it on the cluttered surface. Methodically taking off my jewelry, I try to gather my thoughts. In normal life I am a very eloquent speaker, but when my emotions are roused, I am reduced to a foul-mouthed jumble of words. Around my lover and our group of friends, I'm generally always a mess simply out of stress induced fear and worry. I'm not expecting tonight to go any smoother. Wiping the make-up remover cloth across my face, I stare at myself in the mirror. Without my cosmetic armor, I look worn out, tired and old. What in the world does Vegeta see in me? I'm not even beautiful anymore, uhg.

Growling, I turn my back on the sight and meet Vegeta's eyes from across the room. The last of the day's sun slants across his face, highlighting his strong features and unfairly long eyelashes. My hands curl into fists as I hold his gaze, all my anger and fear rising at once now that he is in front of me and we are alone. I can't stall. We have to talk.

"I'm pissed off at you." I whisper.

He snorts, mouth curling up. "And this is different how? You are always pissed about something, woman. It seems to be your natural state." Even though his words are calloused, I can see a flicker in his eyes that is not normal. Is he trying to dodge this conversation? Or is that waver I see something deeper, like fear or maybe even regret?

While I try to mull over that, he pushes away from the wall and walks to the window, staring out at the city. "You're not the only one. I am as well." He tells me, words stunning me.

"Wait, what?" I ask unintelligibly, blinking at his back. Vegeta turns and gives me an aggravated snarl. Ignoring that, I walk over and reach for his hand. He jerks it away and steps away from me, jaw clenching and hands fisting together. He's really agitated, but why? This isn't normal for him. He gets angry, yes, but ruffled and visibly distressed, hardly ever. Usually he's only like this when fighting and getting his ass handed to him, and even then, it's over quickly. His natural cockiness always resurfaces soon. He just isn't the type to show this type of weakness ever.

"Vegeta, let me – " I don't know what I can do, but I have to be able to help him. Even though I'm pissed off at him, I don't like seeing him this upset. His normal self is arrogant and overbearing and aggravating, but when he's acting that way he's content-ish and I only want him to be that way. This, I don't like at all. Feeling a little panicked, I grab his hand again.

He yanks free violently, sending me off balance to the floor. Growling, he paces away from me, slamming his hands down on my vanity and staring at his reflection with loathing. I can see his muscles straining tightly in his back, and his chest heaves like he's just finished fighting. Cautiously now, I rise to my feet and walk over to him. Softly, I reach up and try to touch his face. A quick jerk from him moves his body out of range.

"Do not coddle me, woman. I am a warrior." He turns and meets my concerned gaze. In those dark eyes I read regret and pain, but what tears at my heart the most is the self-reproach and loathing I can see eating him alive.

"I allowed myself to fall into the control of another when I became Majin, a disgrace of the highest caliber. How can a proud Saiyan allow such a thing? It's unthinkable, and humiliating. I swore I would never become a slave to anyone after Frieza was destroyed, and yet, once again, I let it happen." He snarls the words, almost spitting them out at me.

"Tell me why." I demand, walking back to the bed and sitting on the end. Vegeta doesn't willingly talk very often but on the rare few occasions he has, I have found that removing myself from him usually helps. When he is pulling emotions out he can't control them and he hates that, hates being so exposed and vulnerable. If I am not next to him it is easier for him to handle. It goes against my instincts to do so, but if it helps him, I'm willing to try it now.

"I felt as though I became weaker living here, with you and Trunks. I discovered… I am weak to when Trunks cries, and I willingly give up time I could spend training myself to watch the boy play with Kakarot's youngest. I look forward to evenings when you are finished working and start harping at me for some reason or another. When I worked for Frieza, none of that softness existed in me, and I felt like I was stronger then, a perfect warrior like Saiyans are meant to be." His words are harsh and said quickly, but I catch them. And hearing them, I stand up, march over, and grab his shoulder, whirling him around to face me.

 _Slap_! The sharp sound echoes through my room.

"Are you a fucking idiot?" I scream, hand throbbing from hitting his face. It's like slapping a granite wall. Vegeta blinks at me, stunned into silence for once. "The man you admit to being stronger than you, the one you hold up as your own personal goal, has a family. He plays with his sons; he doesn't spend all his time training despite what you and Chi-Chi seem to think. And yet he is strong, stronger than you. He beat you when you worked for Frieza, so why the hell did you think that reverting _back_ to that person would make you strong enough to fight him? I almost fucking _died_ because you are a dumbass!" They can probably hear me downstairs but there's no stopping this now. I can't believe that _this_ is why Vegeta allowed himself to become Majin!

"Don't you think I know that, woman!? I won't use it as an excuse, but that maggot Babadi did use my own darkness against me. Those fools Kakarot and Gohan are both too pure hearted to be infected that way, but we both know that I am no angel." Vegeta snarls at me, getting right in my face like he always does. I have never backed down before, and I won't this time either.

"Right, that was all it was. Oh, I'm the dark tormented Saiyan Prince, and I became a puppet because my damn pride made me stupid! That is so lame, Vegeta, and you know it. You've never lacked a spine before, so don't lose it now and whine about how it wasn't your fault. Aaargh, I'm of half a mind to call Goku and have him beat the shit out of you again! Seriously, you prick, you wanted to forget about your family because you thought it made you weak? What kind of dumb logic is that?" I steam, turning my back on his and crossing my arms.

"It's been ingrained in me since I was a child that Saiyans do not form attachments to others. We don't care for our mates outside of procreating with them, yet I do. We don't worry about our offspring, but _I do_. I feel like I am no longer a Saiyan, and you cannot understand that!" Vegeta bursts out.

At his words, some of the anger drains from me out of sheer shock. Did he just say…? Turning around to face him again, I can see how tightly he is still holding himself, muscles locked and straining all over his body. Blowing out a breath, I try to think past my anger. He feels for his son. He feels for me – and that is one I am going to test out later because hello, big boy, that's news to me – and that makes him think he's not a Saiyan? I sigh. He's forgetting something.

"You told me, Vegeta, that Frieza said he killed your father when King Vegeta stormed the ship trying to find you. Now, this is just my interpretation, but if he was willing to risk his people and go up against a galactic evil overlord just to find you, don't you think your father also had 'unseemly' feelings for his son?" I ask, rubbing at my forehead. This is giving me a huge headache. Neither one of us are very good with vulnerability or emotions, and here we are pulling open old wounds and exposing our hearts. I'm going to need wine and lots of hot messy make up sex to feel better once this is done, and not necessarily in that order.

"I know this. My father always thought of myself and Tarble more than he should. He sent my brother far away to protect him from Frieza, since he is not a warrior. But still, my father… I hardly remember him. I was sent from him when I was but a child, younger even than Trunks. I cannot use him in my image of what a Saiyan is meant to be when I do not know him." Vegeta crosses his arms and rocks onto his heels a little, balancing on the back of his feet. While he isn't normally one to fidget, and he can stay stock still for hours, when he is agitated, he has to move. He taps his fingers and toes, and rocks on his feet. Seeing these tells now helps me feel better. I'm dealing with real and true Vegeta here, the one who gets irritated at everything and dislikes talking. It's reassuring to know he's uncomfortable, too. And also… wait, what did he just say?

"You… you have a brother, Vegeta?" I squeak, mind shorting out for a moment. He tosses an annoyed look my way.

"Yes, my younger brother Tarble."

"Why haven't you mentioned this before!?" I growl at him, wanting to grab him and shake until maybe some sense rattles into the huge head of his. Going on and on about how he is one of the last of the Saiyans all these years has apparently been a big act, because he has a brother that I don't know about. Holy shit, I've got a brother-in-law!

"Because he is literally on the other side of the universe ruling a small planet far away from everything so it matters not at all that I have a brother!" He snaps back, getting defensive. "I've kept silent about him for years to protect him. Not even Nappa knew about him. It's just habit, woman, so leave it alone!"

Okay, that does make sense. If Frieza had known about Vegeta's brother, then that evil tyrant would have used that to torment and control Vegeta more than he did already. Who knows, he may have killed the second prince altogether. Though, if he knows his brother's planet, why hasn't Vegeta tried to get in contact with him since Frieza's defeat? Oh well. Questions for another time, I guess. Right now, we have more important things to discuss.

"So, you are regretting letting Babadi control you, right?" I ask, trying to clarify. Drawing in a sharp breath, Vegeta nods, once.

"Alright. Then I guess I can forgive you for being a stupid jackass. That's your normal character after all." I mutter, a little bitter about his choice but willing to look past it as I always do. I have grown rather used to forgiving this man for terrible things. His ruthlessness runs deep, after all, and his heart is more than a little black, which may be why it was so easy for him to become Majin in the first place. Still, he fought it off eventually and came back to his senses. And it seems this little incident has done him some good, because after breaking free of being a puppet, he… he…

"Why did you decide to die fighting Buu, Vegeta?" I whisper, feeling my throat constricting even as I speak the words. Hearing the strain in my voice, my lover glances up at me. I must look like a fright, because this aloof man who never offers anything close to comfort reaches up and pushes my hair out of my face as he answers me.

"Because I realized that in eight years, I have never held my son or told my woman that she is amazing. That I have spent all my time since Namek fighting to be better without realize I already am, wasting time I should have been spending with you and Trunks. There was a monster in front of me threatening to take away the world that has given me a chance at happiness, and I wasn't going to let it. I knew I could not win unless I used all the power I possess. So I did. It wasn't easy, but I thought if I could make you and Trunks safe then anything was worth that. Even my death." Each word he says goes right to my heart and strikes it squarely. Here is Vegeta, the arrogant, selfish, cold-hearted, dastardly Prince of all Saiyans freely admitting things I have longed to hear from him for ages.

My lips quiver as I reach up and grab his hand, bringing it down to my chest. Leaning forward, I rest my forehead against his shoulder. "That's not fair, Vegeta. You can't suddenly say things like that. I can't be angry at you now, you prick." I warble, tears thick in my words. Vegeta huffs at me.

"Really, woman, get a hold of yourself." He says, giving my hand a light squeeze. His dry response is so him that I can't help but smile through my tears. No matter what happens, he really won't change, not the core of him. This warped personality is a deep scar from his childhood, the one most visible to see. I truly believe that if he had not suffered under Frieza for all those years, he would have been as great a person as Goku. He has the same heart, despite how much he hates to admit that he and the other Saiyan are anything alike. Both of them are so similar that it's almost funny to see them butting heads trying to be different. With Goku's upbringing, Vegeta may have been our savior just as much as Goku. Who knows? But, the way his is now is perfect for me.

I love this complex man totally and completely, with all my heart and soul, as sentimental as that sounds. He is the only man alive, I think, who can take my selfish and petty self. I'm high maintenance and hard to handle, but he has the ability to tell me no – which my parents lack – and also put me in my place if needed. I can do the same for him. My overwhelming personality doesn't faze him because his is just as powerful. Not to mention he is a man who takes his partner seriously. I'm not a warrior or strong, but Vegeta knows that my mind is my asset and he has never belittled it. He lets me work and admires what I do.

Let's be honest here, the only reason he even started a relationship with me in the beginning was because of the Gravity Room, though it quickly grew beyond that. Vegeta has said before that without my gadgets he and the other warriors would have been dead a hundred times over. Words like that from him mean more to me than all the romantic serenades in the world, because they declare his feelings much more plainly. I love him for being that way. It's almost shy and definitely something only I can get from him, which makes me very happy.

Plus, you know, Vegeta is absolutely gorgeous. Chi-Chi and I disagree on this, but I think my man is much more appealing to the eye than her husband. Vegeta's body is hardened by years and years of fighting to survive, not just for fun like Goku. His physique has a harsher edge than my friend's, which I fine irresistible. For Goku, fighting is and probably always will be a game, something he thoroughly enjoys but doesn't see as something dark. For Vegeta, it's life or death. I'm not saying that Goku hasn't fought for his life before, because let's face it, almost every battle he's been in has been that way since his childhood, but even in battles against monsters like Frieza and Buu, he's having fun and thinking of it as a contest of strength.

Vegeta can also think that way but he also tends to take his fights much more seriously than Goku, because he always plans to kill and end the fight as a total victor. I don't hold it against my friend, but how many of our trials and problems on Earth could have been avoided if Goku had just killed his opponent? Then again, if he acted that way, I would be without my man right now. But regardless, it is this mindset that adds allure to Vegeta that no one else can match, and I've looked at plenty of men to compare.

I've never hidden the fact that I find males delectable from anyone, openly admiring many men even while dating Yamcha. And I have seen a fair share of our male friends either completely or mostly naked before. Goku, especially, tends to just strip down wherever without modesty. Even enemies I have gotten an eyeful of, like Zarbon, although he quickly got put on my ugly list. That second form of his is just…uhg. Out of all the men I have met and seen, Vegeta has the best body. Not an ounce of fat is on him anywhere, and I've seriously looked so I can say that is a fact. Even better, Vegeta is just as crazy about my body as I am about his, which I secretly find hilarious.

Here he is, this proud man who considers being a warrior the most attractive thing about a person, and he pants over my science nerd little self. I'm not ripped, my muscles are just meh, and I can't fight at all, and yet one of the strongest men in the entire universe regularly tears my clothing off and bangs me against walls and desks. I can understand Goku being like that, but not Vegeta. In fact, Chi-Chi and I have shared a laugh over the fact that her Saiyan got the fighter and mine got the thinker. In movies or books, our pairings would have been turned around to fit standard conventions. Not that I am complaining or anything, mind. I'm perfectly content with my wild monkey man.

Nuzzling Vegeta's neck, I smile against the blue fabric. Thinking about all this is great and all, but I have finally gotten my talking done. The anger is still there, but it won't be a problem for now. I need to work through the rest of it on my own. Now I would like to be able to affirm my lover's return to life in the most primitive and naughty way I can. And, knowing him, he won't be that adverse to it. I've learned that Saiyans have hearty appetites for three things, and three things only: Food, fighting, and fornicating, which is just fine by me.

Sitting up, I reach out and cup my hand around his neck, starting to lean forward. My intent is clear, and I see that knowledge in his eyes as he watches me. Just when I'm about to kiss him, though, he growls and halts me with a hand on my shoulder, turning to face the door. Blinking, I sit back.

"Son, get in here." He snaps, sounding more irritated than usual. I flush guiltily as the door creaks open and Trunks sidles into the room, eyes cast down and hands linked behind his back. It's his pose whenever he is caught doing something wrong, and so different from his normal confident swagger, learned from watching his father, that I always have to hold in a giggle when I see it. Usually. Today I'm ducking my face, too. I totally forgot about Trunks, I got so wrapped up in his father. I'm a terrible person…

"So? Why are you skulking at the door?" Vegeta asks, crossing his arms as he glares at his boy. I'm happy to note that he doesn't move away from me, though, keeping our bodies very close even while trying to discipline our son.

Trunks draws a pattern with his foot on the ground. "Um, well, you guys stopped yelling, so I was wondering if you were gonna come downstairs? Grandma's baking cookies. She said if it was okay with Mom I could have one." He says, flicking his eyes over to me. I sigh. My mother is going to spoil him more rotten than he already is.

I admit that I am much more lenient in my childrearing that Chi-Chi, but I truly believe that letting a child learn and discover on their own is better than forcing them into it. Trunks is very intelligent and enjoys the sciences as much as fighting, but he does both on his own time, which keeps them fun for him. I honestly don't know how Gohan hasn't burnt out on school yet, seeing as Chi-Chi forced him to study since infancy. Even so, no child needs food this late. Not even a Saiyan child.

"It's a little late for cookies, Trunks." I chide, shifting on the bed to swing my legs over the side. Though he's eight, my son still likes to be tucked into bed when he's had a trying day, and I think this day counts. I will enjoy it as well, though I want to do it quickly so I can get back to sexing up my man. Vegeta puts a hand on my thigh, stopping me. He stands up instead.

"You need to sleep. Come on." My mouth falls open as Vegeta shoos Trunks ahead of him. Our son's entire face lights up as he realizes that his father is going to tuck him into bed. I don't think Vegeta has bothered doing this once in his life before, and yet now he is. My heart flutters as I realize that maybe Vegeta really has finally started to care about his son outside of training. I know he said it earlier, but actions speak louder than words, especially with him. Skipping, Trunks waves a cheery goodnight to me and zooms down the hall towards his own room. At the doorway, Vegeta turns to look back at me.

"Unless you want that dress ripped, I suggest you take it off before I get back." Smirking in his arrogant way, he walks off after Trunks.

"Oh man, it's on tonight, Bulma!" I squeal, hugging myself tightly before jumping up and rushing to my closet. Pulling my red dress off over my head, I toss it in the clothes hamper and quickly shimmy out of my undergarments. Vegeta has little patience for smallclothes and has ruined more than a few of my good bra and panty sets before. Silk and satin don't hold up against Saiyan strength very well at all. Or impatient men. Both of which Vegeta most assuredly is.

Totally nude, I walk back out to my bed and flip the covers back, tugging the thick duvet off. Saiyans have a higher body temperature than normal humans, so on the nights that Vegeta stays in my room I have to take the thick blanket off. He is plenty warm with just the sheets on him, and since I wrap myself around him I am warm too. I pull the cover down to the end of the bed and fold it under. I don't take it off completely. Vegeta rarely stays in my room with me. Usually, he only comes into this room to mess around with me, so he's only staying the night maybe three days out of seven. I need the blanket most nights. Right now, though, it will only be in the way.

Preparations complete, I flop down onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. It's amazing to think that just hours ago I was dead, wandering around in Otherworld with Chi-Chi as spirits or souls, or whatever it is we were. I've lived a rather unusual life since I first found Goku all those years ago, getting mixed up in many of his scary adventures, but I have to say that this is the first time that I experienced death. It is a dim memory and I'll likely forget it soon in the hectic shuffle that is life, but I still know I did die.

"Women like me aren't supposed to die." I grumble, covering my eyes with my hands and heaving a sigh. "I'm the beautiful and wealthy damsel with a handsome prince. Mine is meant to be a charmed life."

"What stupid prattle are you spewing now?" I shriek when Vegeta's voice rumbles right next to my ear. Rolling, I find him kneeling on the bed, watching me. How in the world does he manage to move so quietly? It's just not normal. Well, I guess his skintight clothes don't rustle, and if he flies, he won't make sounds like a normal walking person, but still! Not cool.

I pout as he climbs closer to me on the mattress, eyes never moving from my nude form. Vegeta really, really likes my body, and makes no secret of the fact. He is rather possessive about it, too. All my evening gowns have to be pre-approved by him. If they show too much skin. I'm not allowed to wear them if he's not going out with me. And if he sees a man staring too long at me, well… there have been a few employees of mine that have ended up in the hospital for weeks on end in unusual circumstances, let's just leave it at that.

"I'm saying that as a princess, I am not supposed to ever have to go through shit like losing my lover or dying." I say, reaching out and tugging on his white gloves, pulling them off and tossing them to the floor. Vegeta flexes his hands absently, giving me a disgusted look.

"Since when have you been a princess?" He asks, crawling on top of me and shoving me back against the bed. He cages me in with his body, a prison of muscles I never want release from. Smiling, I reach up and slide my finger along his jaw.

"Oh, I think I've been a princess my whole life. However, it only became official once I managed to become the lover to the Prince of all Saiyans." At my purred words, Vegeta's eyes darken and he leans down until his face hovers right over mine. My hands curl around his shoulders, accepting his dominance over me even as my gaze challenges him.

"And what makes you think you are important enough to be able to claim such a title from me, hm? Not every woman I fuck is a princess by default." At his vulgar growl, a shiver works its way through me. Our love life has never been gentle or romantic. Most of the time, it is dirty and quick, all about selfish gratification and not about our hearts at all. When Vegeta is in a mood, though, he will not stop until he's managed to wring ever last ounce of pleasure from my heart and body. When I am limp atop the bed, covered in hickies and unable to move from his embrace, that is when he will hold me close with a tenderness that leaves me flying high for days after. And he is in that mood tonight. _Yes._

Grinning, I grab his ears and pull his head down, claiming his mouth in the deep and passionate type of kiss that he likes the best. He quickly wrests control of the kiss from me, plundering my mouth ruthlessly until I'm quivering beneath him. When he pulls back a little, I give him my best reproduction of his arrogant smirk that I can manage.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I'm the one woman in the entire universe who can make you scream?" I taunt. Vegeta sits up on top of me and yanks the top half of his blue outfit off, tossing it onto the floor carelessly. I watch his muscles flex as he rises onto his knees and starts working the pants down, revealing that he wears no underclothes – no shock there – as he pulls them off as well. Then he yanks me up against him, our naked chests rubbing together, and lowers his mouth to my ear.

"Prove it, woman, if you can." He growls. Licking his salty skin, I lift my hands and set about proving just how much power this woman has over the Saiyan Prince.

(SORRY. I'M CENSORING THE LEMON.)

My throat burns as I try to gather enough air to speak, chest heaving with my panting. Maaaaaan, sleeping with Saiyans should count as a full body workout because I am whooped! Vegeta lifts my limp body easily and tucks me against his chest, spooning around me with his arm secured at my waist. Still struggling to breath, I trace the numerous white scars that cross his skin, drawing the truth of his life out in a detailed map on his arms, chest and back. Even his legs have scars, though not as many. Blowing out a sigh, I grab his hand and squeeze it between both of mine.

"Vegeta." His name is hoarse when it emerges from my mouth, but after the screaming and panting he's made me do, that's no surprise. He's just not happy unless he's made a mess of me in bed. And Chi-Chi has clued me in that it's not just a Vegeta thing; Goku's pretty intense with her, too. Must be a Saiyan thing.

"Hn?" Vegeta hums a response to me, staring out the window at the night sky. I trace my fingertips around his palm.

"I totally made you scream." I tease, lacing my fingers through with his and giggling. He grumbles but doesn't pull his hand away, allowing me to hold him closer.

"That… doesn't count as a scream." He argues back, using his free hand to pinch my hip. I yelp at the slight pain, but don't try to move away. I am too comfortable like this, snuggled against him. After he's done with me, Vegeta usually leaves my room to go back to his own or train. For him to linger afterwards is rare.

"Does, too." I yawn and close my eyes. Doing this with him always makes me sleep so well. "Hey, Vegeta, I know you don't want to get married or participate in any stupid human traditions, and you can't wear a ring anyway since you fight all the time, but can we at least do something on paper?"

"I don't need a scrap of paper to tell me you're my woman." He grouses, yanking his hand free from my hold so he can grab the edge of the sheets at our feet and pull them up to my shoulders. He must have noticed the gooseflesh breaking out on my skin. I roll so I am facing him, hands pressing against the firm slabs of his chest.

"Ah, well, I guess you're right. Marriage isn't really your thing. I just want to make this whole princess thing official. Because, you totally screamed." I said, yawning again and cracking my eyes open to grin at him. My entire body is one giant ache, but it is such a good pain that I can't bring myself to care.

"Shut up, Bumla." Vegeta snaps, covering my mouth with his hand. My giggle is muffled, but I know he hears it. Huffing out a breath, he knocks our foreheads together, staring into my eyes. He doesn't say anything, but he never does, really. Instead, his cheeks turn rosy as he stares at me, and I know. It's in his eyes. I am his entire world, and he would do anything to keep me safe, because no matter what he says, I _am_ his princess.

I smile at him. "I love you, too, you annoying ass." I mutter, kissing his chin before tucking my head against his chest. His arms tighten around me. I am safest, happiest, in his embrace. Our love may not be perfect, or what the poets write about. It's certainly not what I dreamed about when I set out to find the Dragon Balls all those years ago. However, this angry love we have between us, with all its ups and downs and problems, is what I have. And for me and Vegeta, and angry love is how we are meant to be.


End file.
